Les Petites Choses
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Just five little drabbles concerning Gibbs, Jenny, and baby boy! Based in the Deja Vu 'verse that I literally just created two days ago and claimed I was never going to write again. Happy, fluffy, domestic, etc. I mean it's a fun break from the angst sometimes! :D Jibbs andd a baby.
1. Initials

_a/n: i said in the author's note for 'Deja Vu' that i wasn't coming back to this but i'm a liar and i will spend eternity on this ship (that's a Pirates of the Caribbean quote, but it sort of fits? say it in Davy Jones' vice, yo,.). so i suppose i'll declare it something like the Tiva "Eli & Anthony" universe I write in; I'll dabble in it for short little pieces, and then eventually, I may write the story that's behind it all. _

_but, primarily I'm working on ACD, so don't bug me about this._

_here's five little drabbles set in the "Deja Vu" universe: Jenny, Gibbs, and Baby Boy Gibbs._

* * *

**_February, 2001_**

* * *

Gibbs was taking thorough advantage of a rare Tuesday evening home early enough for dinner by commandeering baby feeding duties. Commandeering, in this case, meant his son's mother had given him absolutely no option—she was tired of the little boy refusing night after night to eat his carrots—and disappeared to _relax_ for a moment.

She went in to work earlier than him, and thus came home earlier than him, so she usually handled the most stressful parts of the baby's day—when he woke up screaming for breakfast, and threw a fit over what he was getting for dinner.

Gibbs didn't really blame him—puree was puree, no matter what flavor label you slapped on it.

Within ten minutes, Gibbs had given up trying to force feed him, taken him out of the high chair, and perched him in the center of the dining room table—he'd noticed the little punk was attempting to glare at him while refusing to open his mouth, and the glare was wrong—all wrong.

These things were supposed to be hereditary, but Gibbs was willing to teach.

He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, glaring pointedly at his son. The problem was—the little boy, sitting remarkably straight for a baby—kept smiling at Gibbs, or yawning, and then laughing at himself for yawning.

It lacked intimidation.

Gibbs shook his head and leaned forward, poking the corners of his mouth lightly and adjusting them in a frown. He was just trying to get the left side right, and narrowing his eyes to show him exactly how it was done, when Jenny stormed into the room abruptly and flung herself down in the chair next to him.

Warily, Gibbs leaned back, attempting to pretend he hadn't been doing—what he had been doing. He managed to look sheepish and stern all at once—and then raised his eyebrow when he noticed Jenny had her face in her palm.

"Jen?" he asked cautiously.

She yanked her palm away and looked up, flinging her arm out wildly. She opened her mouth to speak, and then she noticed—

"Why is he sitting on the table?" she asked.

Gibbs chose his words carefully.

"I can look 'im in the eye that way," he said vaguely.

Jenny gave him a look.

"You're supposed to be feeding him."

"Doesn't wanna eat, Jenny," retorted Gibbs. He smirked. "'M teachin' 'im how to glare."

Jenny glared at him witheringly.

Gibbs pointed to her solemnly, and looked at the baby.

"Like that," he said seriously.

The boy leaned forward and reached for Gibbs' finger, grabbing it tightly and laughing. Gibbs smiled at him, suckered in, and furrowed his brow in amusement. Jenny watched them for a moment, and then Gibbs cleared his throat gruffly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, remembering her determined march in.

She snapped back into her previous mood, and slapped a piece of paper down on the table.

"We have to change his name," she announced.

Gibbs paused. He turned and stared at her for a good minute and a half and, when he realized she was being completely serious, he said nothing and turned right back to the baby, completely ignoring her.

"Jethro," she prompted after a moment, her tone brittle.

"Your mother is crazy," Gibbs deadpanned, talking directly to the baby.

She made an annoyed noise deep in her throat and pinched his arm, demanding his attention. He gave her a truly exasperated look and turned his palm up, lifting his shoulders in disbelief.

"He's eight months old," he growled pointedly.

Jenny compressed her lips.

"I know how old he is."

Gibbs glared at her for a moment, and then reached for Benjamin, lifting him off the table easily and settling him on his lap. He tilted his head, leaning forward to catch the baby's eyes, and raised his eyebrows.

"You good with Ben, buddy?" he asked.

Benjamin reached out and took Jenny's hand.

"Dada," he said, unconcerned.

Jenny pushed her hands through his silky down of hair affectionately, her eyes still boring into Gibbs' head. He finally looked up and narrowed his own eyes, refusing to humor her.

"What'sa matter with you?" he groused mildly.

"It's his _middle_ name," Jenny insisted, slight panic in her voice.

Gibbs' expression darkened—the argument over Benjamin's middle name had lasted nearly the entire pregnancy and sixteen hours afterwards; he was not about to open that can of worms again.

"No," Gibbs growled.

"Jethro—"

"No," he repeated emphatically. "What the hell's wrong with his middle name?" he demanded.

"Benjamin Shepard," Jenny said. "_Shepard_," she reiterated, and then tapped her finger violently on the paper she'd slapped on the table, and slid it towards him. "Look what it says on his vaccination record!"

Gibbs leaned forward, and Benjamin pulled Jenny's hand towards him and put his mouth directly over his mother's ring, gnawing with his gums. She was too distracted to notice; she watched Gibbs scan the page until he saw what she was pointing at.

_Vaccination; Polio: Gibbs, B.S. _

He raised his eyebrows.

"B.S.," he drawled, and smirked.

Jenny pinched his shoulder roughly.

"_Bullshit_," she whispered, stricken. "It is _not_ funny!" She pushed her hand through her long red hair, still oblivious to Benjamin sucking on her ring finger. "How could I not notice?"

Gibbs shrugged. He looked down and shifted, gently pulling Benjamin away from Jenny's hand and nudging his chin up. Jenny moaned in distress and leaned over, pressing her forehead into Gibbs' bicep. Benjamin reached out and poked her in the face.

Gibbs raised one eyebrow smugly at his son.

"Good thing I nixed Benjamin _Jasper_ then, huh, son?" he asked wryly.

It took her a moment, but when it clicked, Jenny let out a strangled half-laugh, half-groan.

* * *

_**February, 2001**_

* * *

_so, the title translates to "The Little Things"  
and the baby's name is Benjamin Shepard Gibbs (that's not a hyphenated last name, to be clear. Shepard is his middle name.) born June 2, 2000._

_-Alexandra  
story #167_


	2. Engaged

_a/n: i don't think i mentioned last chapter: i'm not doing this in any order at all (obviously). _

* * *

**_January, 2001_**

* * *

It was on a crisp, icy January morning that Tony DiNozzo returned to the Navy Yard. He was back from a week's Christmas vacation, and then a weeklong course at FLET-C that officially terminated his probationary status and promoted him to full special agent, and he bounded off the elevator smugly.

His prime reason for being so abominably cheery on his first day back under Gibbs' thumb was—

-that the empty desk that sat forlornly next to Gibbs' and across from DiNozzo's was no longer to be empty.

DiNozzo strutted into the bullpen with an extra flounce in his step; hell-bent on impressing, intimidating, and generally upstaging the transfer agent they were getting from within NCIS. Even if she—and he was exited about the she part—was internal NCIS and not technically a probie, he was looking forward to watching someone _else_ flounder around in a panic under Gibbs' autocratic squad room rule.

Gibbs was nowhere to be seen—but the new agent was already perched at her neatly organized desk, leaning forward on an elbow as she intently studied intelligence information displayed on her computer screen.

DiNozzo halted in front of her desk—she looked up, and he raised his eyebrows, startled—he hadn't exactly expected his new team mate to be, well—distractingly hot.

She blinked patiently and then cocked an eyebrow—there was something annoyingly familiar about her smirk—and he didn't want her to get the upper hand by saying something clever before him, so he cleared his throat dramatically.

"Thought federal agents only looked like you in Bond movies," he drawled, turning up the patented DiNozzo charm. He flashed a sparkling, toothy grin and held his hand out gallantly. "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, at your service."

The woman stared at him a moment, eyebrow still cocked, and then glanced down thoughtfully at his hand. She reached out with her right hand, removing it from her jaw and lifting her head, and shook his—firmly.

He flexed his fingers as he pulled his hand back gracefully. He let his backpack slide off of his arm until it hit the floor with a thud, his eyes still lingering on hers. She didn't look away—which he took as a good sign.

"You're my new partner?" he said, breaking the silence—since Gibbs was leader, the third man—woman—for their team was equal partner.

"At least I'm not working with idiots," she remarked wryly. She inclined her head. "Jenny Shepard," she introduced.

"Jenny," he repeated in a deep voice, flashing another grin.

He sat down on the edge of desk and she pursed her lips, watching him with vague interest. He leaned forward, glancing around him surreptitiously, and lowered his voice, giving her his most dashing look.

"You're lucky you have me, you know," he told her.

She tilted her head, and then leaned back, crossing her arms.

"Am I?" she asked. "Why is that, Very _Special_ Agent DiNozzo?"

"Gibbs is a man to be reckoned with," Tony said solemnly. "He's the Chuck Norris of the Navy Yard—he never sleeps, he never eats, he runs on coffee—he never smiles," he warned mystically, leaning closer to her. "You've got me to show you how to tame him," he bragged—even if it wasn't true. He smirked. "That, and I'm handsome."

She chewed on her cheek silently, lifting an eyebrow, her long red hair resting over one shoulder in thick, messy curls. She abruptly leaned forward and cocked her head to the side, laughing a little.

"I've seen him smile," she said vaguely. "Seen 'im sleep, too."

DiNozzo glared at her, taken aback.

"You—wait, you've already worked with Gibbs?"

She gestured her index finger around in a circle, indicating the bullpen.

"This isn't my first rodeo with _El Jefe_," she whispered—and DiNozzo narrowed his eyes warily—how did she already know what they called him around here?

He didn't have time to think about it before he was slapped harshly on the back of the head and then yanked off of Jenny's desk by his collar and the scruff of his neck—and the next thing he knew, Gibbs was forcibly throwing him into his own seat behind his own desk.

The Boss gave him a good, hard glare, and stormed over to the new woman's desk, picking up her left hand and indicating a sparkling, elegant white diamond on her ring finger.

"This is mine," he growled.

She smiled demurely; Gibbs dropped her hand and retreated to his desk. She leaned forward and gave DiNozzo a pointed look.

"You're the lucky one, Tony," she said pointedly. She showed him her engagement ring again. "It's _me_ who tames him."

* * *

_**January, 2001**_

* * *

_this scenario has a special place in my heart, since Lauren Holly was originally slated to portray 'Kate Todd'. _

_-alexandra _


	3. Jen

_a/n: GIBBS CUDDLES, IT'S CUTE _

* * *

_**August, 2001**_

* * *

Her favorite part of the evening was just before her baby's bedtime; he was usually so amicable and sweet—because he was sleepy and clean and warm—that he chattered to her and Gibbs nonsensically and did adorable, cute things while she read to him.

She lay on her side in the master bedroom, wrinkling her nose and letting Benjamin stroke her face or play with her hair as he wished while Gibbs tore through the basement trying to figure out where they'd lost his stuffed tiger and where the tattered copy of _Goodnight, Moon_ was.

"Dada," Benjamin said pleasantly. "Dada," he said again, blinking as he crawled forward and rolled over, throwing himself into Jenny and giggling.

She frowned and leaned over him, shaking her hair on his face to tickle him and make him laugh some more.

"Mama," she corrected light-heartedly.

Benjamin—tended to refer to herself and his father both as _Dada_ and she wasn't sure if it was because he was lazy, stupid, or a conniving little twerp. He was fourteen months old and seemed to be exhibiting a Jethro-like rejection of actually talking.

She tickled his toes, and he squirmed away, kicking onesie covered feet.

"Dada!" he cried, exasperated.

Gibbs materialized out of nowhere with the tiger and the book in hand, sitting down heavily on the bed and leaning over. He snatched Benjamin gently from her, pretending to rescue him, and cuddled him against his chest easily with one strong arm. Jenny sat up a little, smiling, and Benjamin scrunched up his face and reached for his tiger.

"Tag, Dada," he insisted.

"Here, buddy," Gibbs answered, handing it straight to him. He tossed the old book to Jenny, and she drew it to her, flipping through it on their bed.

"Where was it?" she asked.

"Under the couch," Gibbs grunted. "Think he threw it after last night's bedtime meltdown."

"Ah," Jenny murmured—okay; so bedtime wasn't always the best part of the night.

But really—Benjamin was so little that he went to bed early, so she usually still had a few hours of adult time with Gibbs before the stress of the workday hit her over the head with exhaustion.

She smoothed out the book, opening to the first page.

"Jethro, don't let him chew on that," she said lightly, nodding at the baby.

"Ben," growled Gibbs gently. "No," he said, taking the tiger's tail out of his mouth.

Benjamin stuck his tongue out—or, well, let his tongue hang out of his open mouth, and glared obstinately at Gibbs, reaching for it.

"Dada," he whined. "Dada!" he demanded.

"Don't chew on it," Gibbs muttered, warily handing the toy back.

Jenny frowned.

"When is he going to say Mama?" she asked, pouting. She shifted and crawled over, wrinkling her nose and pressing it against his little chest. "Ben?" she demanded. "Say Mama."

He lowered his head and head-butted her immediately. Jenny pulled back and narrowed her eyes.

"That hurts Mama," she said pointedly.

He blinked at her.

"Mama," Gibbs said gruffly, pointing at Jenny. "Ben. C'mon, son, give her a small victory."

Jenny turned her head and shoved it rudely into Gibbs shoulder. He shrugged her off, smirking.

Benjamin reached out and stroked Jenny's hair.

"Dada," he said to Gibbs.

Gibbs laughed outright. Jenny sighed patiently.

"My day will come," she said dramatically.

Gibbs snorted.

"You're just the food supply, Jen," he mocked good-naturedly.

"He only says _Dada_ because it's easier for babies," she retorted loftily.

Benjamin tilted his head back, looking up at Gibbs. Gibbs looked back at him seriously, wondering what was going on in his little head. The baby struggled against Gibbs, standing up in his lap, and leaned over his arm, blinking at Jenny seriously.

"Jen," Benjamin said.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

Jenny opened her mouth, her eyes lighting up in excitement—and then she froze, her brows knitting in confusion.

"Did he—_Jen_?—what?" she spluttered, glaring at her son.

Gibbs made a gruff noise like he was holding back laughter. Jenny sat upright and patted her chest violently, looking intently at the baby.

"Mama," she said. "I'm _Mama_," she repeated emphatically.

Benjamin stared at her, confused. Then he threw his tiger at her.

"Jen," he repeated stubbornly.

This time, Gibbs did laugh—loudly, throwing his head back to add insult to injury.

Jenny gave them both an outraged look.

"Wonder how long he'll call you that," Gibbs teased smugly—and she leaned over and bit his shoulder in annoyance.

"_Jen_?" she squawked, affronted. "This is your fault Jethro—he's so enamored of _you_," she groused, slouching heavily against the headboard. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I should have stayed in Italy," she sighed dramatically.

"Hey," growled Gibbs, leaning over and sticking his head and Benjamin's in her face. Benjamin puckered his lips obediently—he knew close ups meant kisses. Gibbs narrowed his eyes sternly.

"Don't ever say that," he said in a low voice. He smirked, and added: "_Jen_."

* * *

_**August, 2001**_

* * *

_-alexandra_


	4. Boys

_a/n: by anonymous request, this scenario with Gibbs, Fornell, and the kiddos. _

* * *

**_October, 2001_**

* * *

Gibbs squinted and peered critically into the cereal box and did a quick, silent cost-benefit analysis: choose the healthy option, or pansy out and feed Benjamin his favorite cereal because it meant less annoying yelling.

"Lucky," he heard his son demand loudly from the living room.

He made up his mind and slid the box of _Cheerios_ to the back of the cabinet, snatching the almost empty box of _Lucky Charms_ out and grabbing a bowl off the counter. He marched into the living room and tossed the bowl in front of the baby. He raised his eyebrows.

"Here, buddy," he said, tipping the box and pouring a stupid amount of colourful little sugary marshmallows into the _Batman_ bowl. Gibbs tossed the now empty box onto the floor by Ben's high chair. "Go to town."

He sat down in the chair next to his son and shot a glare at the man sitting across the table from him.

"What?" he growled.

"Why's there only marshmallows left in the box?" Fornell asked, pointing a fork at the bowl.

Gibbs shrugged.

"Jen pours 'im a bowl, picks out most of the sugar, throws 'em back in the box," he explained gruffly, picking up a fork and going for his eggs.

"What's she do with 'em if she doesn't let him eat 'em?"

"_She_ eats 'em," Gibbs retorted.

Tobias snorted and shook his head, eyeing Benjamin for a minute while he shoved his little hand into the bowl gleefully and began popping the pure sugar into his mouth happily.

"You're gonna get it," Fornell warned, whistling.

Gibbs looked around pointedly, gesturing with his fork.

"You see my wife here?" he demanded, shrugging.

Fornell laughed and reached to his left swiftly, without turning his head.

"Leave his food alone," he ordered to the little girl in the booster seat next to him, effectively preventing her from stealing some of Benjamin's marshmallows.

"Want candy for breakfast," Emily told him loudly.

"It's not candy," Fornell retorted. He looked down at her fondly and pointed to the waffle he'd made her. "Eat that, it's got liquid candy on it," he said seriously, glancing back at Gibbs. "Yours kept tryin' to steal mine's bacon," he accused narrowly.

Gibbs reached out and nudged Benjamin in the shoulder proudly.

"Boy knows good food," he said gruffly, shrugging.

Emily turned her head and stuck her tongue out at Benjamin. He threw a marshmallow at her, shrieked, and scrunched his face up. Both kids' fathers ignored them blithely, absorbed in their own manly breakfasts.

Fornell snorted.

"What're the chances both our wives take off on us, the same week?" he mused.

Gibbs shrugged, stabbing powdered-sugar covered pancakes with his fork.

"Better question," he growled. "What're the chances they go to the same conference?"

Fornell laughed, shaking his head—Diane and Jenny were both at a government mandated intelligence software training; the whole of the IRS was required to go, and Gibbs had forced Jenny and McGee to take that bullet for NCIS.

If either woman knew her husband was using the time to hang out, goof off, and generally ignore the established rules of parenting, she would throw a fit; but neither wife was due back until tomorrow, so Gibbs figured he and Fornell still had a day of half-assed attempts not to spoil the kids.

"Kind of miss' er, though," Fornell said abruptly.

Gibbs scoffed.

"Diane?" he asked skeptically, making a face into his breakfast. He smirked in disbelief, and Fornell shot him a look.

"Emily kinda likes 'er," Fornell pointed out. "Emily seems a bit more of a pain in the ass when Diane's gone."

"Yeah," agreed Gibbs, pointing at Benjamin with a fork. "Tell me about it," he drawled. "Why'd you think I'm just lettin' 'im eat the marshmallows?"

He was sick of the battle that came with half of the rules that Jenny enforced—she was a virtual pro at ignoring Benjamin's screaming and stubborn protesting, but Gibbs just liked to shut him up and make him happy so he could play with him and teach him about the boat.

"Ha," Fornell snorted. "I had to take Em to work with me yesterday. Know what she did?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Picked up my phone, called the CIA hotline, and said _pizza_."

Gibbs laughed, scooping eggs up with his fork. Benjamin tipped his marshmallow bowl over, sending them flying, and laughed hysterically. He picked up the bowl and placed it on his head, and then offered marshmallows to Emily.

Instead of remedying the situation, Gibbs smirked, amused. Emily broke a piece of her bacon in half and thrust it out to Benjamin, gnashing her teeth. He leaned forward to take it, but Fornell stopped him.

"Hey!" Gibbs barked, annoyed.

"Kid's barely got teeth, Gibbs!" groused Fornell.

"Let 'im gum it!" Gibbs retorted, lunging forward and punching Fornell's hand away from the kids. He gave Emily a nod, indicating she could give it to Benjamin, and she did.

Benjamin began to suck on it happily, mashing his mouth on the bacon, and Gibbs sat back, almost knocking over his beer in the process—beer with breakfast, another thing Jen would go ballistic about.

Good thing she wasn't home.

Benjamin reached over and yanked on Emily's pigtail.

"OW!" she shrieked, and pinched his arm.

"Son," Gibbs growled warningly. "Girls don't like their hair pulled."

Fornell dutifully pulled Emily back from Benjamin and into his lap.

"Some do," he said wryly, shooting Gibbs a look.

Gibbs smirked.

"Diane," he snorted.

Fornell started to smirk, and then he sat bolt upright and his smile faded. Confused, Gibbs glared at him, picking up his beer—

"What the hell is going on?"

-only to drop it in shock, and spill the half-empty bottle all over his pancake, egg, and bacon breakfast.

He winced and turned around in his chair, suddenly face to face with Jenny—she stood there in full professional regalia, her arms crossed, her hand on her hip, glaring violently at the scene—beer, unhealthy breakfast, the bowl on Benjamin's head—and she looked absolutely livid.

"Hey, Jen," Gibbs said smoothly, shooting her a charming grin. "How long you been standin' there?"

She just arched an eyebrow—which told him, probably long enough to hear them joke about Diane in bed. Gibbs winced again and then tried to muster an indignant look and glared at her.

"You're supposed to be home tomorrow!" he accused gruffly.

"I was released early for good performance," she said icily, stepping forward. "Jethro, what—this house is a mess," she growled, crouching to pick up the empty cereal box. "Is there seriously a bowl of marshmallows sitting in front of my child for breakfast—Jethro, when was the last time you _shaved_?" she demanded, launching into a tirade.

Fornell blinked, his eyes wide.

"If she's home, mine's home," he muttered. "I got to go," he said, a pained expression on his face.

"You sit, Agent Fornell," Jenny ordered sharply. She turned tersely to Benjamin and picked him up, sweeping the bowl off his head and cuddling him close to her chest. She gave him a soft look and kissed his forehead, then glared between the two men. "I'll call your wife," she informed him.

Fornell stared at her. Gibbs looked stricken. If Jenny was pissed enough to voluntarily communicate with Diane—_what_ had they brought upon themselves?

Jenny turned, Benjamin in her arms.

"Mama," he said pleasantly.

She kissed his head again, and smacked Gibbs firmly in the back of the head as she walked into the kitchen, navigating the laundry basket and toys on the floor. She shot Benjamin a protective, stern look.

"Don't you dare think this is acceptable male behavior, champ."

* * *

**October, 2001  
**

* * *

_can you imagine Jenny and Diane: "I can't believe those two..."  
-alexandra_


	5. Fever

_a/n: what to do when you have cold feet? leroy jethro gibbs has a solution._

* * *

**_January, 2001_**

* * *

She arrived home from work incredibly late—she had been needed to stay and work with a female victim who clammed up around the men. She quietly laid her things on the counter, assuming Gibbs was in the basement, and made her way to the nursery to check on the baby—she knew he'd be fast asleep, but she wanted to press a kiss to his forehead and say goodnight.

She discovered, to her dismay, that her baby was _not_ asleep in his crib—and when she stormed down the hall and to the top of the basement stairs, she found the basement empty as well—and immediately went from annoyed to worried.

She went down the hall to the master bedroom and peeked in warily, apprehensive about what she would find. She was still adjusting to co-parenting; she hadn't been home from Europe for very long, and even though she knew Gibbs was experienced in childcare, it still made her slightly nervous to leave him alone with Benjamin.

He was sitting up in bed, his head lolling back against the headboard. He looked asleep, but Jenny knew better than to think Gibbs was asleep if he was sitting up—he was probably strategically resting. She cleared her throat softly and came into the room—and then, with a sigh of relief, she realized he was holding the baby.

Jenny shivered, hating how cold he kept his—their—house, and stepped closer, looking softly for a moment at the picture. Benjamin was all snugly settled against Gibbs' chest, his little head tucked against his father's shirt and his feet dangling just slightly over Gibbs' arm.

Jenny reached out and stroked the baby's brow, pursing her lips.

Gibbs opened his eyes instantly, looking at her sharply. He relaxed when he recognized her.

"Hey," he grunted.

She sat down next to him, nudging his legs over.

"Why isn't he in his crib?" she asked gently, keeping her voice down.

Gibbs cleared his throat, shifting stiffly.

"He's sick," he said gruffly, an exhausted look in his eyes. "He stopped cryin' when we sat like this," he explained.

Jenny looked worried.

"Sick?" she repeated hoarsely. "What's wrong? He's never—he's only had a little ear infection. Is he—?"

"He's okay," Gibbs soothed, looking down at the baby. "Fever's stayed at one hundred," he said. "Gave 'im some Tylenol and a bath and drained 'is nose," he muttered. "It's a little cold, Jen, that's all."

Jenny frowned sympathetically and bent over, leaning down to kiss the baby's cheeks lightly. She sat up and raised an eyebrow at him warily.

"You should have called me," she admonished. "I would have come home."

Gibbs shrugged.

"I can handle it," he said smugly, giving her a proud look. "'Sides, he needed my attention more'n you," he added bluntly. "I'd have called if he needed a hospital."

Jenny tilted her head at him and smiled. Impressed by his words, she got up and started to strip out of her work clothes, carefully choosing the warmest pajamas she could find—it was so _cold_ in DC; she'd spent so much time in warmer climates that she'd forgotten.

She took her hair out of its neat bun and crawled into bed, yawning and collapsing next to him, her face next to his thigh.

"I'll shower tomorrow," she mumbled. "I'm so tired," she sighed.

"Take the day tomorrow," Gibbs said. "Take care of 'im."

Jenny laughed quietly.

"Playing favorites with your team already, Agent Gibbs?" she asked. She moved her head and pressed a kiss to his leg, shoving her nose against his jeans affectionately. She appreciated the offer—and she'd probably take it. She wouldn't leave a sick, fussy baby with Noemi.

She shivered again and curled closer to Gibbs.

"My feet are so cold," she complained. "You need thicker sheets."

Gibbs didn't answer her—she sensed him rolling his eyes—but leaned forward and shifted slightly. He pushed her knees down, adjusting the blankets awkwardly with the baby in his arms, and then patted her feet—and promptly laid Benjamin down on top of them.

Jenny blinked, and then turned and sat up a little looking down—the sleeping baby shifted, his nose crinkling cutely, but didn't wake, and Gibbs sat next to her looking smug and pleased with himself.

"Jethro—" Jenny began testily.

"He's like a human electric blanket," Gibbs mused, glaring fondly. "I've been burnin' up, havin' to hold him like that."

Jenny wriggled her feet slightly, staring down at the makeshift-heating pad.

"He's so warm," she whispered, arching her eyebrows. She turned and glared at Gibbs warningly. "Do I want to know where you got this idea?"

Gibbs didn't answer; he continued to look at her smugly, waiting for the gratitude—Benjamin slept soundly, and he really was a warm, cuddly little thing. He seemed perfectly content on Jenny's feet, warming her up—and he could tell she was enjoying the sensation.

She squealed softly.

"I can feel him breathe," she whispered. "He's so cute, Jethro," she sighed, lying down next to him, blithely accepting the baby on her feet.

Gibbs leaned back, resting his arm around Jen's shoulders and keeping a watchful eye on his son in case he woke up or decided to roll over and smack his face into Jen's shins. He was busy working his fingers through the knots in Jenny's thick red hair when she shifted her head and blinked up at him, cocking an eyebrow half-heartedly.

"Is this acceptable parenting?" she asked wryly.

He shrugged.

"You kept him warm for nine months, didn't you?" he retorted. "Figure he owes you."

* * *

**January, 2001**

* * *

_Finis!  
-alexandra_


End file.
